


One Day

by mizunohikaru



Series: MizunoHikaru's YOI drabbles and oneshots [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comfort Food, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Food Trucks, M/M, Oneshot, Or whatever the spelling of their pairing, Romantic Fluff, Snacks & Snack Food, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, VictUuri, domestic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizunohikaru/pseuds/mizunohikaru
Summary: For Victor Nikiforov, his apartment acted as a house: a place for him to return in the end of the day. With Yuuri though, it feels like a home now. A den, a sanctuary. A safe haven. Suddenly he realized that each evening, he was looking forward to go home and spending his time with the Japanese skater.Yuuri followed and stepped in, surrendered himself in Victor’s embrace. “I’m home,” he murmured softly. And not only in figurative meaning. After all, Victor is his home, his sanctuary; someone who will always welcome him even after the roughest day.In summary: Oneshot of Victor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri's snipets from one day of their domestic days in Russia, being totally in love with each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic at 28th of December 2016. Last year. It's funny how I keep tinkering with it, and really took my time posting it. If you notice, it's far longer than my usual oneshots/drabbles. Way, way longer. LOLZ. I hope you guys will enjoy reading this, as much as I enjoy writing it :)
> 
> As always, this one is un-betaed but I do believe my grammar won't be that bad. Bear with me.

* * *

 

It was Victor who woke up before their alarm beeped.

 

There were some golden ray of sunshine peeked from the gaps of their curtains, promising a nice sunny day. Weather had been bleak and gloomy these days, so it was nice to finally be able to experience a change. There were already some noises carried from the streets below: the hustle of the pedestrians, honks from the busses, and wails of the seagulls. All those buzz were muffled as Victor’s apartment was located on the upper level of the building. Else than those faint noises, it was a quiet morning.

 

It was warm on their bed. The Russian skater yawned as he shifted slowly, afraid to disturb his sleeping beauty. Beside him, curling in fetal position, head semi-burried onto the crook of Victor’s neck, was Yuuri.

 

_Ah, bliss._

 

Victor was counting his blessing during moments like these. Yuuri looked serene in his sleep, so beautiful and peaceful. There were some red marks from their vigorous activities the night before, and for sure Yuuri will flush and blush—hard, when he noticed the marks. _I’ve told you not to leave obvious marks, Vitya!_

 

And for sure Victor will replied those pretend fret with a sheepish smile. _Ah, sorry Yuuri._ It was a lie, of course. He’s more like, sorry not sorry.

 

His fiancé was living with him during his training in Russia, a battle won after Victor constant convincing efforts that there were no point for Yuuri to seek another flat or dorm to rent while staying in Russia. _A waste of money and too much obligations_ , Victor insisted, and Yuuri finally gave in. So there are they, living together in Victor’s apartment.

 

It’s a bizarre thing, living with someone else.

 

While he had lived with so many people during his stay on Hasetsu’s Yutopia, it didn’t give him quite a revelation about the matter. After all, the onsen is also functioned as an inn, a recreational place—and except for the staffs, other people bound to come and go as their please. It’s like living in the hotel, or somewhat a dorm. Yes, you got a room—your private room, but most of the other places are public spaces.

 

Actually living with _someone_ in his _own_ apartment though, was a different matter. His apartment here, in Russia, is solely a living place. There weren’t any business done there in all sorts; as he does his works someplace else, like at Yakov’s place or directly at the rink.

 

He never got any housemate before. The place is simply his, a one level condo designed in simple and minimalistic urban style, open spaces everywhere. It looked like those cozy and styled rooms copied from the IKEA’s catalogue pages brought into life. The apartment is spacious alright, but all his furniture hinted his lifestyle as a single, busy bachelor. He only got one bathroom and one master bedroom. No guest bedroom, and it suits him just fine as Victor never got any guest stay over the night there.

 

The kitchen, dining room and living room mashed together in a multifunction merge space. He got nice, all stainless steel appliances with granite countertop on the further corner of the condo that he rarely use except for the coffee maker and occasionally microwave. He didn’t cook, as enough accidents with any cooking utensils already convinced him to not bother except he wish for a disaster.

 

He had lived there alone, and often left it empty during his competition overseas. For Victor Nikiforov, his apartment acted as a _house_ : a place for him to return in the end of the day. With Yuuri though, it feels like a _home_ now. A den, a sanctuary. A safe haven. Suddenly he realized that each evening, he was looking forward to go home and spending his time with the Japanese skater.

 

It was quite a new experience to living together with Yuuri. It was exhilarating: Victor found joys in even a menial thing, something he never considered before. For example, the kitchen was actually well-used these days. Honed his cooking skill enough during his days helping at Yutopia and those college days in Detroit, Yuuri cooks often while they cohabitate. Victor’s refrigerator which used to be empty, now filled with all kinds of produce, eggs, dairy products, some frozen meats and bottles of milk and different juices.

 

They shop regularly during the Sunday morning plaza market, and it was really interesting to Victor as he didn’t feel like it was a chore. It was more like a mini date, really. It was exciting to visiting the booths, watching Yuuri tried his best to practice his Russian with the grocer.

 

It was fun to visit the supermarket sometimes after their practice at the rink; to walk on those aisles, searching for items on their list, discussing which brand of new detergent or softener that they need to buy. Victor appreciated those moments, enjoying the sudden bliss of his domestic life.

 

A simple “Good Morning”, “Good Night” and “What do you want for breakfast?” suddenly being so wonderful to hear. Yuri told him that he was so sappy these days the Russian Ice Tiger couldn’t bear to stay close with him, especially when he acts all lovey dovey with Yuuri.

 

“You two are embarrassing,” Yuri pretended to puke, but Victor couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t help it. He even got these tingling, fuzzy feelings when he saw his toothbrush placed together side by side with Yuuri’s. The new toothbrush had accompanied his own on the plastic cup placed near the sink. They shared the bathroom naturally, brushed their teeth in sync in the morning: bleary-eyed and half awake, legs occasionally touched as they cramped themselves on the narrow area in front of the white bowl shaped porcelain sink.

 

Both of them were indeed not a typical morning person. The funny thing was since they lived together, sometimes Victor could woke up earlier from his usual alarm. It slowly become a new habit, and as it kinda sounded creepy ( _yet romantic!_ as his inner mind defended himself) Victor loves to spend his time watching his raven haired boyfriend asleep like this.

 

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

 

Yuuri shifted as their alarm finally beeped, mumbled a protested groan as he stretched a bit, before curled back and buried himself inside Victor’s embrace. The older male chuckled, “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

 

“Mmm”

 

“Rise and shine, _моя любовь*_ ,” Victor ran his fingers on Yuuri’s cheeks, slowly cupped it before showering the Japanese skater’s whole face with light kisses, “We don’t want the poor Yakov to get another ulcer if we’re keep arriving late on the rink. Come on.”

 

Yuuri laughed for the flirtatious act, and slowly open his eyes. _The hazel orbs were rich and warm and filled with love,_ Victor mused, pleased to see his own reflection on his lover’s eyes. “Good morning, Vitya,” Yuuri smiled, still looked sleepy in his tousled bed hair.

Victor replied that smile, pecked on Yuuri’s lips as he anwered. “Morning, Yuuri.”

 

* * *

 

Victor and Yuuri ended up being late.

Blamed that to Victor’s idea to _“shower together saved us time and water”_ since it turned out they spent way more time and too much water since the innocent bath time turned completely into a steamy morning make out session, followed with not so innocent love making activity.

 

It was 10 minutes late from the training schedule when they dashed into the rink hall, and by all means they should be warmed up and trained on ice already. Wearing her signature long sleeved dark training top, Mila waved a hello when she saw the two of them on the front hall, the auburn haired gestured a hush to the locker room. _Hurry!_ She gestured while pointing to her wrist, tapping it several times. Luckily Yakov haven’t arrive yet, so both of them were safe from lectures.

 

Yuri Plisetsky were sitting on the bleachers at the locker room, just finished tying his skate. He was checking his phone when the door swung open and the two lovebirds stumbled inside.

 

“SHIT VICTOR, GROSS!” was the first thing the poor boy yelled as he facepalmed himself, hard. “I DON’T NEED TO SEE YOU SHOVE YOUR TONGUE TO KATSUDON EVERYTIME I SEE YOU GUYS! SERIOUSLY?!”

 

“Ah, so sorry Yuri,” Victor said in his _I’m not sorry though_ tone, “I didn’t realize you’re here.”

 

The younger skater grumbled, knew his protest obviously fell to the deaf ear. Furiously tapped his left leg to the linoleum floor of their locker room, the said Ice Tiger of Russia rubbed his temple. _Gosh I’m still young yet I always get headaches coz this stupid couple. No wonder Yakov got an ulcer._ “You’re not sorry, are you?”

 

“Nope…!” Victor answered in sing-song tones, beamed as he glanced at Yuuri and gave the latter a hell of flirty, passionate gaze. Yuuri blushed hard and hid his face using his layered scarf, “Victor, stop seducing me like that, seriously!”

 

“Awww but you’re so cutteeee—“ Victor prolonged the vowel of the syllables, “…when you’re blushing like that. You’re so adorable, моя любовь*~!”

 

Yuri never felt the urge to really wriggle someone’s neck this badly before.

 

And the urge multiplied as he recognized all the love bites Victor left on Yuuri’s ivory skin when the Japanese skater innocently changed his clothes, not aware of the marks.

 

“UGH TOO MUCH INFORMATION! VICTOR I SWEAR—“

 

“Take a chill pill, Yura.”

 

“EAT SHIT, YOU LETCHER!”

 

* * *

 

The training ended later than usual.

But it was still evening when Victor and Yuuri packed their bags and left the building; hair slightly damp after the shower they took after the rigorous practice. Yuuri’s new free program’s choreography got some tinkering, so both of them repeated the steps and the jumps since Yuuri wanted to make his body memorized the new routines. It was hard to coach while learning his own choreography, but Victor proved he could do both.

 

Outside the building, the weather is kinda warm with gentle ray of the sunshine lingered on the last moment of the day, the stubborn orange tinted with crimson as the purple hue started to dilute the warmer colours—these days the sky turn dark really quickly, too soon to Yuuri’s liking.

 

Hand in hand, both of the walked on the ashy gray pavement—their shadow casted odd and long limbed in those rounded edges stones placed in half circular pattern. The breeze felt really nice, and then Yuuri suggested. “Let’s take Makkachin to the park today.” Victor nodded vehemently, agreeing the idea.

 

The poodle welcomed them as Victor unlocked the front door, tails wagging excitedly. Yuuri ruffled the soft fur and took the leash along with the lead, and Makkachin practically glomped the Japanese man. “Whoa, easy!” Victor laughed, caught his lover right after Yuuri stumbled.

 

They took their usual route to the park, the quiet one with the scenic view. Makkachin followed their lead, wagged his tails non stop as he strolled on the grass—bobbed his head as he sniffed the scents along the trail. There was a food truck that opens from 11 AM to 8 PM in the middle plaza of the park; offering different menus everyday, and the delicious aroma filled the air even from afar.

 

“Ah, they served Knish today,” Victor exclaimed, before explaining the unfamiliar food to his lover, “It’s like… what’s that word—Like a cross between a calzone and a samosa. The one they served was made from mashed potatoes, ground beef, onions and cheese filled inside baked thick dough pastry.”

 

They ordered the dish, along with two piping hot solyanka soup, served in small, palm sized paper cup. The hearty soup got the aroma that reminded Yuuri to his own home at Hasetsu; the homely soup that his mom stirred on the stove on their warm kitchen. Yuuri took a sip of his soup and sighed as the warmth comforted his throat, seeped into his body. The red soup was made from thick chunks of pork, cooked for hours over a low flame with garlic, tomatoes, peppers and carrots, that’s what the middle aged food truck lady explained to him.

 

Soon, it was fully dark and the three of the walked back to Victor’s apartment. The street lamps were lit in the warm yellowish hue, looked like a trails of flickering orbs that lead them home. They made a quick stop to the pastry shop in the corner of the street, the one Victor swore that they sell the best Blini in the whole Russia. _Sell_ , Victor emphasized, _because my mother made the real best blini._ The thin crepe-like pancakes got several toppings to choose, and since they intended the dish to be a dessert of the night, Yuuri picked the thin sliced cinnamon apple that had been drizzled with golden honey.

 

They shared the Blini, the savory dough tasted nice mixed with the sweetness of the apple. “You know,” Victor smiled, “Back home, my mother served Blinis topped with caviar as breakfast. You need to try that when we visit her sometimes.”

 

“You eat caviar for breakfast?” Yuuri was amused as he usually synonymies the salted fish eggs as delicate and expensive gourmet food that served on luxurious parties. At least, back home in Japan, caviar wasn’t really your typical commoner food. It was too pricey to be served during ordinary morning for breakfast.

 

“Only sometimes,” Victor replied, not really convincing. “Really. Most of the time she only topped it with smoked salmon or minced beef”

 

“It sounds delicious.”

 

“It is!” Victor beamed, and Yuuri’s smile went wider. He love to see Victor like this: excited, animated, telling him stories about himself and his family back home. Victor’s fingers were interlocked with his, warm and safe, and Yuuri’s heart were filled with love.

 

Right after unlocking their door, Victor stopped and stared at Yuuri. His expression was kinda hard to be explained using one mere word: it’s like a mix of happiness, curiosity, along with a trace of mischief. There were at least three solid seconds before the Japanese man blinked, “What? There’s some sauce left on my face?”

 

“Nu-uh,” Victor prolonged the ‘no’ in his usual sing-song tone, “I’m just thought… that you’re really here with me, and it’s really a blessing.”

 

“Victor…!” The crimson trailed back to Yuuri’s cheeks and ears. The Russian man laughed as he opened the door and stepped in, turned back and opened his arms wide, “Welcome home, мой дорогой**”

 

Almost in tears, Yuuri followed and stepped in, surrendered himself in Victor’s embrace. “I’m home,” he murmured softly. And not only in figurative meaning. After all, Victor _is_ his home, his sanctuary; someone who will always welcome him even after the roughest day, “I’m home… Vitya.”

 

* * *

 

It was Yuuri who awoke in the middle of the night.

 

Makkachin slept on his own dog bed tonight so the fluffy dog didn’t share the bed with them as usual; but as their bedroom’s door was slightly ajar, the poodle could enter the room whenever he pleased.

 

It was quiet, with the constant _tick tock_ from the clock be the only voice that filled the room. The fluorescent numbers showed that the midnight was just passed recently. Victor’s breath was soft, felt warm on his skin. His fiancé hugged him in their sleep, body tangled together in lax manner.

 

Their bed felt warm, the new softener they had choose together last week do a real wonder with its soft scented aroma, the floral aroma was tinged with the freshness of a baby soap. Yuri sighed, moved himself closer to Victor, slowly—a bit by bit as he didn’t want the silver haired man to be awake by his movements.

 

Victor’s lips were slightly open, pulled into a shape that almost a smile. It was beautiful, and Victor looked so content that Yuuri couldn’t help to think _Are you dreaming about me? Are you dreaming about us?_

 

Using his fingertips, in a touch as soft as feather, Yuuri traced Victor’s face. His Caucasian gene gives the Russian man a prominent nose, those brows rested on a nice looking profile, the high chiseled cheekbones were accompanied with a strong jaw. His pale skin looked like marble under the moonlight, and Yuuri couldn’t help himself to compare his lover with those figures carved from the white marble stone by the hand of Michael Angelo. Beautiful beyond words.

 

But Victor is warm and alive, with a pair of loving eyes that worshiped him like he was the most beautiful person on earth whenever he laid his eyes on Yuuri. They shared their life now, happiness after happiness, even in the utmost menial things. Out of nowhere, Yuuri’s tears fell.

 

His heart were filled to the brim with bliss; felt tight in a good way. It still felt like a miracle, to be with Victor—to be so much in love with each other. Yuuri was counting his blessing during moments like these. _I love you, I love you, I love you so much._

Another sigh.

 

Then those eyes opened slowly and the cerulean orbs reflected his own image. In sleepy, husky voice, Victor pulled him closer. “Bad dream?” Wiping what’s left from Yuuri’s tears using his thumb, the Russian skater planted several light kisses on his lover’s face. Those fingertips combed Yuuri’s raven locks, which grew longer these days. It felt soothing, and Yuuri kissed Victor’s lips softly.

 

“No,” He answered, “I got the most wonderful dream, then I wake up.” It wasn’t really a lie, though he’s being awake wasn’t why he cried. After all, the man on his dream were there, laying beside him, hugging him when he awake from the slumber.

 

Victor mumbled something, and Yuuri smiled as he crawled closer—half buried his face on the crook of Victor’s neck. “I love you so much, Vitya.” He whispered the truth, and the smile on Victor’s face went wider.

 

“я люблю тебя так сильно, мое солнце…***”        

 

 

* * *

 

 

I relied on google translate along with several translate website for the term, hope I didn’t butcher the Russian XDXD

* моя любовь (moya lyubov') “my love”

** мой дорогой (moj dorogoj) “my dear”

*** я люблю тебя так сильно, мое солнце (ya lyublyu tebya tak sil'no, moye solntse) “I love you so much, my sunshine”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> P.S.1.  
> Apparently, blini topped with caviar for breakfast is a real thing in Russia. LOLZ. :)
> 
> P.S.2.  
> To fictiontasy and rosehood (a.k.a the winners of my games on previous fics) please wait a bit for your rewards. I'm working on it, and planned the story to be *cough* steamy *cough*


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